Better Angels: A Call to Arms
by wyles77
Summary: A series of occasional one-shots depicting different crew members' arrivals aboard the Normandy/significant appearances round about the ME3 timeline. Shepard or Liara will feature in most of them in some fashion, hence the character filters. Rated for language.
1. Karin Chakwas

**A/N:** _Mass Effect belongs to Bioware, I'm just playing in the sandbox._ _There were many conversations/scenes I would have loved to expand on/feature in Better Angels, but couldn't because there just wasn't room in the plot. That hasn't stopped me from writing them/thinking about them (sigh). This will be infrequent in updates, as I have other stuff on the boil, but hopefully will keep me ticking over for now. Suggestions are welcome, though I can't promise anything... Again, having read Better Angels will give insight, but is probably not necessary..._

* * *

**Major Karin Chakwas, Chief Medical Officer, Systems Alliance **

"Name, rank and posting, please."

"Karin Chakwas, Major, Chief Medical Officer, SSV Normandy."

"Welcome aboard, Doctor. It's good to see you again."

"You too, EDI. As it were." Karin smiles warmly as she steps across the coaming and onto the Normandy's CIC deck, savouring her first breath of recycled air, enjoying the dull metallic clack of her boots on the deckplates, the dark, sombre lighting of a starship's nerve centre, the low-pitched hum of internal power working at minimum draw. "Ahh, that's better. My word, it's good to be home."

"You have been cleared for access to all systems, all databases, and all areas of the ship, Doctor, including the Captain's quarters, XO's cabin, war room, and main engineering drive core," EDI informs the elegant medic as she makes her way down the CIC. "The medical records database requires a master codeword reset keyed to your biometric markers before being made available. A full inventory and crew status report has been downloaded to both your omni-tool and personal terminal. Finally, Private Westmoreland has just finished brewing a fresh pot of coffee."

Karin laughs appreciatively. "I've missed having you around, EDI, I must say. The VI at the clinic on Shalta ward wasn't nearly as efficient, nor as friendly. Thank you."

"My pleasure, Dr. Chakwas. As I said, I am pleased that you have rejoined us."

Chakwas steps into the elevator, riding down to the crew deck and crossing the familiar space to the door of her domain. The retrofit crew have been hard at work, and Karin's keen analytical gaze takes in the differences to the old Cerberus medical bay in one swift glance. The Alliance layout is a well-worn, familiar pattern as comfortable as the uniform she wears. Settling into the seat that has known no occupant but her (but has nonetheless been refitted and re-upholstered), the Chief Medical Officer of the Normandy sets her battered, much-used field bag at the side of the desk. Her duffel is lying on the bed nearest the door, and on the desktop, a small reinforced transport crate bearing biohazard warning glyphs rests next to the terminal; the personal stocks she has had forwarded from the clinic. Activating the terminal, Karin checks the inventory, employing particular scrutiny in inspecting the supplies for dealing with trauma and hardsuit combat support systems. Sufficient stocks are in place for human patients, but if Karin knows Shepard, the crew of this ship will not remain exclusively human for long. Acquiring military grade turian and asari supplies will be difficult, but adding them to the human medications would allow at least baseline trauma care for most races. Huerta Memorial will not open its stocks to anyone, not even for trade; none of the Citadel clinics will. Mulling over the problem, it takes her a moment to realise she has a visitor. There's an asari standing just inside the door, a broad smile lighting her familiar, lovely features. "Hello, Dr. Chakwas."

"Liara!" Pleasure bursts through the doctor at the sight of Commander Shepard's young asari lover. "Shepard didn't say you were aboard."

"I think she wanted to surprise you." Liara walks forward, opening her arms and Karin accepts the welcoming hug.

"It's so very good to see you safe and well, my dear, though I suppose I shouldn't be particularly astonished at your presence. How _did_ Shepard find you so quickly?"

"I was on Mars, at the Prothean Archives," Liara explains. "Cerberus stormed the facility and stole most of the data, killed nearly all of the staff. I was lucky - I managed to hide during their first sweep, and then, well, guess who showed up to save the day?" The asari's lips quirk up into an affectionate grin.

"A certain Spectre who happens to worship the ground you walk on?" Karin suggests, smiling as the asari blushes. "What an astronomical coincidence."

"Isn't it?" Liara agrees with an almost straight face. "She does seem to have a knack for rescuing damsels in distress. Not that I wasn't pleased to see her, of course." She peers over Karin's shoulder at the inventory on the interface. "Do you have everything you need, Karin?"

"I have everything I would need for a human crew, but given that this is the Normandy, I'm going to need at least some baseline supplies - asari and turian - for other races. Trauma and combat injuries, general surgery, that sort of thing. But I have no way to get any of the clinics on the Citadel to release military-grade meds."

Liara nods purposefully as she activates her omni-tool. "Glyph?" she murmurs.

"At your service, Dr. T'Soni."

"Can you cross-reference combat trauma and surgical supplies from asari and turian military protocols with current shipments at the Citadel on our watch-list? Then have any material that matches rerouted to the Normandy on highest priority."

"One moment, Dr. T'soni... Done. The shipments are en route, delivery ETA two hours."

Karin stares incredulously as the asari lets her omni-tool die away. She fidgets slightly under the doctor's scrutiny, and shrugs self-consciously. "The advantage of being the Shadow Broker. I can access supply lines the Alliance and the Council can't reach."

"Those supplies aren't intended for distribution to colonies or combat zones, are they?" Karin asks uneasily.

"Goddess, no!" Liara exclaims hastily. "They're black market shipments, stolen from cargo freighters or colonists by merc groups and pirates. My network tracks them to provide chart data on likely locations of bases and favoured target routes in the shipping lanes. I then make that information available to law enforcement or private security firms - for a handsome fee, of course. Running the Shadow network isn't cheap, after all."

It's Karin's turn to blush. "I'm sorry, my dear, I should know better than to believe you capable of theft."

Liara smiles wryly. "I _am_ perfectly capable of theft; I'm one of the most wanted criminals in the galaxy. I'm sorry to shatter your illusions, Karin, but I'm not as innocent as I look."

"I'll vouch for that," a new voice chimes in slyly as the door hisses open. Karin looks back over her shoulder to see Shepard approaching. "Trust me, Doc, I have personal experience on the subject."

Liara dips her chin, looking adorably flustered as Shepard saunters over and wraps an arm around her waist, tugging the asari into a familiar, possessive hold and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "So what's up?" the Normandy's skipper asks easily. "Got everything you need, Doc?"

"Thanks to Liara, I will have in two hours or so."

"Great. We'll be leaving tonight, so the sooner we're locked and loaded, the better."

"Oh?" Liara arches her eyebrows at her lover. "Did Udina have orders for you?"

"Nah, he was mostly interested in blowing off steam, but Sparatus dropped by and essentially suggested circumventing the Council, going straight to the leaders of each race. I'm not sure it's the right track, but it's something, so we're headed to Palaven to find ourselves a Primarch."

Liara nods slowly. "Actually, that's a very good strategy. If Fedorian can be persuaded to join an alliance, you build pressure on the asari and the salarians. But more importantly, you also get the volus and their not-inconsiderable financial backing. And money will open far more doors for you than pleas for charity." She nods again, eyes narrowing as she contemplates the idea. "Yes... yes, that could work very well."

"Glad you approve," Shepard retorts dryly.

Karin studies her two friends as Liara hip-bumps the Commander in rebuke and the Spectre snags her in a boisterous hug, laughing. Liara is much changed from the shy, naive archaeologist the Normandy's crew plucked from Therum three years ago. Her peripheral involvement in the Collector mission means Karin has not seen her much in the past year, but the confidence and competence the young asari now displays is striking, even if she is still somewhat shy regarding her personal relationship. And it is clear that she is very much in love with Shepard, judging from the way she cannot take her eyes from their dashing Commander.

Shepard has changed too, grown beyond the quietly capable XO of humanity's most advanced warship. She is more of a leader than ever, poised and charismatic, assurance radiating from her like heat from a flame. The trials she has overcome have merely served to temper and reinforce Shepard's already iron resolve, alloying her natural determination and courage with the knowledge that she can and has triumphed over adversity, that she is the right person to be doing what she does. Karin has followed this woman into hell once, and would gladly do so again, because she knows that Shepard does not quit, Shepard will fight to the last breath in her body to protect and defend those she cares for, and Karin is one among that privileged number. When Shepard pulled Karin from that pod on the Collector base, she almost hadn't been able believe it.

_"You came for us," she'd whispered, stunned, still woozy from the sedatives pumped through her to keep her quiet and pliant. Shepard had just shrugged as though it wasn't even worthy of comment. _

_"I'd never abandon my crew," she replied simply, wrapping Chakwas in a solid, reassuring bear hug._

It wasn't till they were safely back on the other side of the Omega Four relay that Karin had begun to comprehend just what a feat even finding the crew, let alone rescuing them, had been. And that was when her loyalty to a good CO and pride in a friend became something more, an unbending resolve to stand with Shepard no matter what, sure in the knowledge that the woman she had chosen to follow was fully worthy of both absolute trust and complete devotion.

"Hey, Doc, you still with us?" Shepard's voice snaps Karin back to the moment. The commander and Liara are both staring at her, wearing matching expressions of concern. Chakwas shakes herself, and nods.

"I'm fine. Sorry, I went wool-gathering there for a moment. Blame it on my age."

Shepard grins cheekily. "You're not old, Doc. Liara's got decades on you."

Liara smacks the Commander firmly on the shoulder, rolling her eyes even as she smirks. "You know, when I said I was pleased to see Shepard earlier, Karin, I of course reserved the right to revise my opinion at any time."

"Of course," Karin agrees with a chuckle. "Are you at all familiar with the word 'doghouse,' Shepard? Because making jokes about a lady's age is a very quick way to learn about it."

"Well, Liara's not_ technically_..." Shepard grins devilishly as she lets the thought hang, clapping her hand over Liara's mouth to forestall the imminent retort as the asari puffs up with mock outrage. "Mmm, on second thought, maybe comparative biology's not the best route out of this."

"Do you need help digging that hole any deeper, or can you manage on your own?" Chakwas laughs.

"Oh, I can make a mess of this all by myself, thanks," Shepard replies cheerily. "On which note, I think a tactical withdrawal is probably in order. Fun as this is, I do need to make sure we're ready to deploy. So, Doc, once you have Liara's supplies, you're good to go?"

"Indeed."

"Excellent. Then I'm headed to Engineering to check our pre-flight. Liara, I'd like to brief you in on the mission before I brief the crew, and I'll need some context - Turian hierarchy, roles and responsibilities, anything you can get me on Fedorian himself. Anything that gives me an edge or a bargaining chip."

Liara nods crisply; the time for play is over. "Give me two hours - anything I don't know about him by then won't be worth knowing."

"Great, thanks. I'll come by your office?" Shepard leans toward the asari as though to kiss her, but Liara leans away, shaking her head and tutting.

"Doghouse, remember, Shepard?" she smiles serenely.

"Ah, damn, yeah. Well, it was worth a shot," Shepard shrugs bashfully as she starts for the door. "OK, I'll see you later. Oh, and Doc?"

"Yes?"

"Speaking of Engineering, there's a certain Chief Engineer downstairs I think would be very glad to see you."

Butterflies erupt in Karin's stomach. "Greg's on board? Really?"

"Really," Shepard chuckles, and then she's gone. Happiness settles in Karin's chest - she has not seen the gentle engineer for far too long. Liara smiles in understanding as she squeezes Karin's shoulder.

"He'll be pleased to see you, I'm sure," she says encouragingly.

"I hope so," Karin agrees. "Thank you, Liara."

"You're welcome. I should go and prepare that briefing material for Shepard. If there's anything else you need to get hold of in terms of equipment or supplies, just let me know and I'll see what I can dig up." The asari pauses at the door. "And one last question, if I might?"

"Of course, Liara, what's on your mind?"

"What _does_ doghouse mean?"


	2. Ashley Williams

**Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams, Council Spectre**

Nerves and fury roil in Ash's gut as she paces the narrow prison of the Normandy's docking tube. Joker is refusing to let her aboard. "Sorry, Ash," he says unapologetically. "Shepard, Liara and Garrus are all ashore; there's no command officer available to clear you."

"Don't give me that bull, Joker, I'm an Alliance officer, and a Council Spectre; I can demand entry."

Joker snorts with laughter. "Oh ho ho ho, yeah, that's a good one, Ash. You're really going to try to out-Spectre Shepard?"

"Jeff is correct, Lieutenant Commander Williams," EDI butts in, her voice infuriatingly self-righteous. "Commander Shepard has defined clear protocols on the chain-of-command for the Normandy under Spectre auspices. Your authority does not permit you intrude upon another Spectre's operational activities without a written directive from the Council. Are you in possession of such a directive?"

"No," Ash ground out from between clenched teeth.

"Then I'm sorry, but you must remain outside the ship until either Commander Shepard, Dr. T'Soni, or General Vakarian return. Logging you out, Lieutenant Commander."

Ash rests her head against the cool metal of the docking tube wall, trying to force down her anger and frustration at Joker's pissant application of protocol. Like _he's_ never bent the rules in his life. Ash knows what this is. It's punishment. Joker is exacting revenge for Ash's behaviour on Shepard's behalf. Almost certainly he's doing it without Shepard's knowledge, letting Ash know just how far down the pecking order she's fallen with her former crewmates as well as her former CO.

The thing that's really bugging her, though, is not the hazing Joker is dishing out in collaboration with the damn AI, it's the niggling whisper in her mind that she deserves it. Three times now, Shepard has extended an olive branch. Three times Ash has denied her, choosing to put faith in her own closed-off preconceptions, in the only code she knows. Three times, Ash has let the situation between her and Shepard deteriorate into a complete cluster-fuck. There is no way Shepard should even consider giving Ash a fourth chance, but the younger Spectre has always been prone to picking at emotional scabs, unable to leave something well enough alone to allow time to heal. So here she stands, waiting for Shepard, resigned to taking her punishment like a grown-up, prepared to have her flawed support thrown back in her face. It's no more than she deserves. She resumes pacing the confined space, gritting her teeth at the knowledge that Joker is almost certainly recording the feed from the security camera to gloat over time and time again.

Shepard has been nothing but honest and forthright with Ash, as straight up as a turian's honour. Shepard has been nothing but supportive, visiting Ash in hospital, bringing her poetry books, listening to Ash's worries for her family, sharing her grief at her sister's loss. Shepard has made Ash feel that she really cares, that she's genuinely pleased to be a part of Ash's life again. _And what did I say when she appealed to my trust in her? "I knew the old Shepard, before Cerberus." Shit, Williams, even the Councilors trusted her more than you. And thank God, because if Tevos hadn't confronted Udina, I might have hesitated too long and not been able to stop the rat-bastard from murdering her and Sparatus._

Ash shivers as she remembers the way Garrus's assault rifle targeting laser had settled on her, along with the sudden chilling knowledge that the turian had the drop on her, and wouldn't miss. The cold clarity of fear had scoured away enough of her uncertainty to allow her to act, and when she'd heard Shepard murmur, "No. You're not," in rebuttal of her assertion that she was going to regret her decision, the weight of doubt had lifted from her shoulders. Trusting Shepard, it seems, still feels right. And that brings Ash right back to the knowledge that she deserves whatever the Normandy's crew see fit to dish out in support of their skipper.

The door from the Citadel hisses open suddenly, admitting Garrus and Liara, chatting animatedly. "...So all I'm saying," Garrus rumbles, "is that that is absolutely, positively, without shadow of doubt, the _last_ time we ever let Shepard drive."

"Agreed. Although in her defence, the assassin _did_ sabotage the car with that sword."

"Nuh-uh, Liara, there's no getting her out of this. The specifics of individual incidents don't matter. You put Shepard behind the wheel of a vehicle, it ends up a burning wreck. Cause and effect. Just promise me she's never, _ever_ going to be allowed to pilot the Normandy. At least, not while I'm aboard."

Liara laughs, patting Garrus on the shoulder. Their easy camaraderie is exactly as Ash remembers, and to be excluded from it is like a knife to the gut, as is the way they stop, smiles fading, as they realise she is there.

Liara, always the peacemaker, is the first to break the awkward silence. "Ashley. How are you?"

"I'm good, thanks, Liara. How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"Good." Ash shifts her gaze to the turian, whose expression is colder than Ash ever recalls seeing, even on that godawful day on Horizon when he tried to defend Shepard from Ash's dumbass outburst; her first betrayal. Hell, even that smug Cerberus bitch had stuck up for Shepard without a second's hesitation. "Garrus. How's it going?"

"As well as can be expected, Ash," Garrus returns neutrally. He looks her up and down, then smiles faintly. "I'm glad I didn't have to shoot you."

"Me too," Ash agrees quietly. She meets his gaze. "Would you have?" _Great, Ash. Can't help yourself, can you? God damn, marine..._

Garrus grimaces, then turns and walks away, but Ash has already seen the answer in his eyes. _Yes. To defend Shepard? Of course I'd shoot you. I still might, if she asks me nicely._

As the turian disappears into the airlock, Liara watches him for a moment, then looks back to Ash, sympathy in her crystalline blue eyes. "You're waiting for Shepard?" she asks rhetorically. "She said she was on her way back, I'm sure she'll be here shortly. Do you want to come aboard and wait someplace more comfortable?"

Ash flinches. She doesn't want sympathy, she doesn't need Liara's pity. If she isn't welcome on the ship, she won't force the issue. "Nah, I'm fine out here, Liara. It's quiet, y'know? Private."

Liara's eyebrow markings arch sceptically, but the asari at least respects Ash enough to take her at her word. "All right. As I said, I'm sure she won't be long. Take care, Ashley." She turns away, but hesitates at the airlock, calling back over her shoulder. "Oh, and Ashley?"

"Yeah?"

"It's perhaps not my place, but... Rachel misses you." And with that, the asari vanishes into the ship.

_Damn_. Guilt floods through Ash in a hot, prickling wave, stinging her eyes with sudden, sharp tears. Three little words, and the asari has deftly slipped inside Ash's guard and cut her open. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tries to get a hold of herself, pressing her fists to her forehead. And of course, _of course,_ this is inevitably the moment at which the tube door hisses open. Ash jerks her hands down, opening her eyes to see a blurry image of Commander Shepard standing stock-still in front of her. Dashing one hand angrily across her eyes to clear her vision, the younger woman drops her gaze, folding her arms defensively across her chest. Shit, she's so not ready for this, but one way or the other, it needs to be unfucked.

"Shepard, I..." _Goddammit_, "I don't know what to say." Agitated, Ash pushes off from the wall and takes a pace towards her former CO. "I'm trying to go over everything in my head. Make sense of it."

Shepard cocks her head to one side, considering. Her hands are shoved into her pockets, and she's poised, still. "Your bandages were still fresh. How'd you even end up working for Udina in that condition?" Her tone is level and calm, and Ash marvels again at the other woman's self-command. How is it that she never sees Shepard lose it? How much does it take to make her rage and snarl like Ash does?

Aware that she needs to answer, she shrugs awkwardly. "You saw me in the hospital, I was going crazy. Felt like I was letting everybody down." _My mom, my sisters. My Dad. You._ "When Udina offered to make me a Spectre, I thought it was a chance to do some good."

Shepard smiles wryly. "I know what you mean. I don't think I could just sit back and watch either."

"Yeah, but it sure turned into a mess. What a Charlie Foxtrot."

"Roger that, LC." Shepard's smile fades. "Listen, I never wanted to put you in that position. We're on the same side."

Ash shakes her head in disbelief. Shepard's trying to take the blame for this, like she always does. "I can't believe it came to that. We were so close to..." Abruptly, Ash feels tears threaten all over again. _We were so close... no, I was so close to fucking this up for everyone._

"Ash, it's OK. We figured it out." Shepard reaches out to squeeze Ash's shoulder companionably. "We stopped Udina and got to walk away - that's the important part."

"Well, that'll be the first and last time I wave a gun at my commanding officer." Ash tries for a joke, but it falls somewhat flat, smothered by the weight of what might have been. "Udina...I can't believe he was responsible for all of it. Was he indoctrinated?"

Shepard looks dubious, but affords the dead Councilor the benefit of the doubt. "It's hard to say."

Ash shivers. "How do we fight something that can worm its way into your head?"

"I don't know," Shepard admits candidly. "But we don't have a choice."

Ash shifts her weight uncomfortably. The moment of truth. " Yeah. I... wanted to talk to you about that. Hackett asked me to join his team. It's a great offer, but... I'd prefer to ride this thing out aboard the Normandy." _Please, Shepard, please. I want to come home_.

There isn't a moment of hesitation. "Permission granted. I couldn't do this without you. Just..." Shepard smiles faintly, "keep your gun pointed at the Reapers, OK?"

"I prefer it that way," Ash grins back, elated.

"And Ash?"

"Yeah?"

"It's good to have you back."

"Yes ma'am!" Ash offers a sharp salute, and it's only now, with her head clear and her heart singing, that she notices the dried tear stains on Shepard's cheeks. "You OK, Shepard?"

"Not really," Shepard admits. "I was at the hospital. Thane died about an hour ago."

Sorrow floods Ash at the words. She never worked with the drell, but he'd been good company in physical therapy, a nice guy without whose help the Citadel would still be under Cerberus control. "He was a hero, skipper. He did good. I'm sorry - I know he was your friend." Ash shifts her weight again. "You, uh, want to grab a drink at the O-club, tell me about him?"

Shepard considers this. "How about later, Ash, after eight bells? Right now I think I just want to talk to Liara."

Ash nods; of course Shepard would want to be comforted by her girlfriend. "Sure. That'll give me time to get settled."

"Take the starboard observation lounge as quarters," Shepard offers. "The view's something special."

"Thanks, skipper," Ash accepts. "But could you do me one more favour?"

"Sure, what do you need?"

"Would you make sure Joker and his pet AI know you want me on board?"

Shepard's gaze flicks to the security camera and back, and she nods. "Consider it done. See you later, LC."

"Aye aye, Captain."


	3. Miranda Lawson

**Miranda Lawson, on the run from just about everybody**

Pain has dulled the world around Miranda. She knows she has to keep pressure on her wound, but pain is making it harder to focus. Pain is keeping the scrabbling panic at bay, that her father has Oriana in his clutches, that Miranda can no longer do anything to stop him. Racing the Reapers here, revealing the location of the base was an act of desperation, but it's been too little, too late, too much for one woman working alone, even if that woman is Miranda Lawson. Fuck, what she wouldn't give to have Shepard and her crew here now. _She offered, you bloody fool, but no, you wouldn't hear of it. You're so bloody arrogant, so bloody sure of yourself, and now Ori's going to pay for your stupidity._ Her father's depraved research is complete, and Kai Leng has already made off with the data, making it clear to the great Henry Lawson in the process what scant regard the Illusive Man holds his tools in once they have outlived their usefulness. _I could have told you that,_ Miranda thinks in bitter amusement. _Saved you the trouble of finding it out for yourself._ She wonders whether her intervention, forcing Leng to split his attention between his objective and his personal desire to wipe her from the face of the galaxy, has actually saved her father's life. That'd be quite the fucking irony, now wouldn't it?

Desperately trying to pull together her last reserves of energy, Miranda forces herself to sit up, but freezes when she hears the grinding bark of heavy gunfire outside the door, punctuated with the bestial howls of Reaper thralls in agony. More Cerberus troops, perhaps, sent by Leng to mop up? _Come to put us out of our misery_? Then, tellingly, she hears the deep bass _whumph_ of a biotic discharge. Not Cerberus, then. But who? Hope, unlooked for and painful, flares in Miranda's heart as silence falls.

There's a moment of perfect anticipation, then the door hisses open, and a heavily armed squad moves through with the flawlessly synched precision of veterans; Garrus Vakarian, Liara T'Soni, and finally, resplendent in shining white armour, Commander Rachel Shepard. _My bloody hero_.

For once, it's not a sarcastic thought; Miranda has never been so pleased to see anyone in her life. "Shepard," she breathes, the name falling from her lips like a prayer.

Shepard takes in the scene in a glance, relief plain in her eyes as she spots Miranda, still moving, still breathing. Henry Lawson reacts quickly, grabbing Ori and pushing a pistol to her head even as Garrus and Liara move to flank him, leaving the direct confrontation to their commander. "Commander Shepard," Henry grates. "Good timing."

"Put the gun down," Shepard orders disgustedly, eyes narrowing as she focuses.

"No. Oriana tried to shoot me. Miranda's poisonous influence no doubt," her father spits, glaring at Miranda.

Shepard shrugs. "I'm sorry she missed," she jibes insolently. "Where's Kai Leng?"

Annoyance flickers across Henry Lawson's face, whether at Shepard's cheek or Leng's abandonment, it's hard to say. "I don't know. Gone. He took my research and left us here to die."

Miranda forces herself to her knees, and the pain nearly has her blacking out, the edges of her vision going grey as she struggles to her feet. "Miranda, can you hear me?" Shepard calls worriedly as she lurches toward her father.

"That's close enough!" he cries, brandishing the gun at Miranda now, tightening his arm around Oriana's neck. Shepard takes two steps forward. "Both of you!"Henry swings the gun back toward the soldier, aim trembling. "Kai Leng didn't finish the job, but I will."

There's a moment of terrible, wired tension, then Shepard eases back, rifle still trained, moving away from a position that has Miranda in her field of fire. Miranda risks a glance, sees Shepard's eyebrows twitch in silent appeal, and takes a reluctant step back herself, every fibre of her being resenting the submission to her father's will. Liara and Garrus are statue still, waiting; leashed.

"You're right," Shepard declares quietly. "This ends here. The way these things always do." Miranda recognises that quiet; it's the neutral, calculating tone that indicates Shepard's tactical brain has kicked in, the unflappable calm of her being in total flow, one with her combat reflexes and instincts. The calm that always suffuses her when she is sure of her path. Miranda's errant hope rekindles; Shep has a plan. Her father needs to be kept off balance, but at the moment he seems to be doing a good job of distracting himself.

"On the contrary," he answers Shepard smugly, "now that the Reapers are taken care of, we have a way out."

He seems to think Shepard's calmer, cooler tone heralds the possibility of a reasonable exchange, and he's likely right; Shepard is nothing if not a woman of her word. Oriana's sobbing softly, wheezing little gasps, breath constricted by the arm around her neck, terrified out of her wits, and the rage the sound ignites in Miranda makes it difficult for her to stay still. But she trusts Shepard, trusts her enough to let the soldier make the play, and to demonstrate that she's on board with whatever the Spectre has in mind, she moves another painful step back.

"Lawson. I won't ask again. Let... her... go," Shepard orders, her aim and her tone solid steel. Miranda can see Liara now; the asari's clenched left fist, tucked away against the small of her back, is sparking with biotic energy. Clearly the Shadow Broker, attuned to her lover's body language, is taking cues from Shepard's actions and words, even though her gaze is zeroed in on Henry. Garrus is also watching intently, his raptor's focus locked instead on Shepard, poised for the tiniest signal that she wishes him to act. Miranda, reassured more than she would be comfortable admitting to by the presence of the turian and the asari, gives in to her fear and pain, plays her part by voicing a heartfelt plea. "Shepard! _Don't_... let him take her."

"Shepard, please!" Oriana begs, voice choked by the pressure on her throat.

"I have no problem with you, Lawson," Shepard says calmly, an icy counterpoint to Miranda's emotions. "I just want Oriana and the research data."

"You want a lot," Henry scoffs.

"You get your life in return," Shepard points out reasonably. "It's more than you had before I got here and cleared the Reapers out. How much is that worth?"

There's an aeon of tension as Henry Lawson considers his options, his gaze flicking from Shepard to Garrus to Liara and back, and seeing not an ounce of give. They will not hesitate to kill him if he harms Ori, and the realization deflates him. "All right, take her," he concedes suddenly, shoving Oriana hard toward Liara. The asari darts forward and catches Ori, dropping her pistol as she bundles the girl clear. "But I want out alive. Deal?"

Miranda seizes her only opportunity. Shepard is as upright and honourable as Henry has banked upon; she will let Miranda's father go, on her word, and the bastard will be free to hunt Ori down again. To say nothing of letting him walk away scot-free from the horror he has perpetrated here. Summoning every last mote of her anger, her hatred, her fear, Miranda lashes out with the last of her strength, a biotic blast that cannons her father through the safety glass and screaming into the husk pit below. "No deal," she coughs as her knees give out.

Shepard catches her, lowering her gently to sit on the floor. "Jesus, Miri," she murmurs softly, as she kneels on one knee and pulls Miranda in to rest her back against her leg, one arm wrapping around Miri's shoulders. "Li, a little help here? Garrus, check six."

Liara joins them, leading Oriana gently by the hand. She kneels at Miranda's side and activates her omni-tool, then applies a dose of medi-gel to Miranda's stomach and administers a shot of painkiller. Oriana drops beside her, and Miranda pulls her into a hug. "Did he hurt you? Are you all right?" In spite of the pain, she does not complain as Oriana squeezes her tightly. "It's OK, Ori," Miranda whispers, "you're safe now."

"I'm fine," Oriana replies, shivering with the comedown. "I just.. I want to get out of here."

"We will," Miranda assures her. "Just give me a minute, OK?"

Oriana nods and lets her go, and allows Liara to help her to her feet. Miranda locks gazes with the asari for a moment, remembering the way Liara used her own body as a shield for her little sister as she pulled her clear of the danger zone. "Liara... thank you."

Liara smiles, the expression lighting her flawless features. "My pleasure, Miranda." Shepard looks up at her lover, her gaze seeking the asari's in a moment of silent communication, and the Shadow Broker nods. "I'll check the computers. Oriana, come help me, will you?"

Miranda regards Shepard, feeling her earlier rush of affection return in force. "Well, well, Commander Shepard. Fancy meeting you here."

Shepard smiles faintly. "We caught a break. Are you all right, Miri?" There's genuine, deep concern in her voice, in her eyes, in her use of the affectionate nickname, and Miranda feels her heart clench at the idea that the commander really does care about her. That for the first time in a very long time, Miranda has found herself a true friend. Tears sting her eyes, and she breaks Shepard's gaze, looking down.

"I'll be fine. Really," she tries to dismiss her injuries.

"I think we'll let Dr. Chakwas be the judge of that," Shepard says firmly.

Miranda nods her capitulation, too tired to argue; the painkillers Liara has administered are starting to do their work. "I don't know how you did it, Shep, but I'm bloody glad you're here."

Shepard's arm tightens, drawing Miranda close to her armoured chest, tucking the brunette's head against her shoulder in a comforting hug. "We tracked Kai Leng here after he made off with some Prothean data from Thessia. I had no idea you were here till we landed. My God...this was a huge risk, Miri. You should have told me."

Miranda sighs. "You have a war to win, Shep. This was my fight. And it's been a long time coming." A tangled knot of hatred, guilt, and elation surges through Miranda as she considers her victory, and she shudders. Shepard squeezes her gently, then relaxes her embrace.

"You did it," she murmurs. "It's over."

"Yeah. I just wish Ori hadn't seen..." Miranda gestures weakly to the wider facility, "all this."

Shepard nods. "I hear ya. Miri, about your father..."

"I'm glad he's gone, Shep," Miranda interrupts. She does not want Shepard to feel guilty over this. "I'm sorry if that sounds cold."

"No," Shepard says softly. "I understand."

"Would you have let him live? Walk away from what he did here?"

Shepard looks at her intently. "I wouldn't have killed him; I keep my bargains. As for walking away," she looks around the room, then back at Miranda with a wink, "the only way out of here is by shuttle, and the only shuttle left is mine. I wasn't planning on giving him a lift."

Miranda nods. Trust Shepard to find a way to uphold justice and her word at the same time. "It's finally over. For both of us. We can stop running."

"Yeah. You can. C'mon, up you get." Shepard tightens her arm again, hauling Miranda to her feet, beckoning Ori to come and support her sister. "Liara, what's our status? Any intel we can use?"

"The research data's gone," Liara admits, frustration lacing her voice as she walks over after Oriana. "There's basic facility information, shuttle arrivals and departures, including Cerberus..." She sighs. "No direct links, but... well, it's a start." The asari seems to crumple slightly under the weight of her words, the perceived defeat.

"Hey." Shepard releases Miranda, reaches out to lay her palm against Liara's cheek. Closing in, unmindful of their audience, Shepard tilts her head and places a tender kiss against the asari's lips. "We'll find them, Li," she says quietly, confidently. "Grab what you can off the computer; you and Traynor and EDI can analyze it."

Abruptly, Miranda catches on to what they're talking about. "I can do better than that," she grins, happiness warming her as she realises that she can give her friend what she came here to find.

Shepard twists around, slinging her arm around Liara's shoulders in the same movement. "What?"

"Before Kai Leng took off, I planted a tracer on him. If you act fast, you'll track him right to the Illusive Man."

Shepard grins like a kid at Christmas as she takes the transmitter Miranda proffers. "Tracer huh? Sounds like you thought of everything."

"Not quite," Miranda retorts deprecatingly, "but... nobody's perfect."

Garrus roars with laughter as Shepard's grin widens. "Thanks, Miri, this is exactly what we need. C'mon, let's get you two out of here." She tosses the transmitter to Garrus. "Upload that to Traynor, right now, and get her to run the trace. Li, shut off the scrambler - let everyone know what this place really is." As Liara complies, the Spectre taps her earpiece. "Cortez, you reading me?"

"Loud and clear, Commander."

"Ready for pick up. Can you come in to the top level nearest the tower?"

"Roger that. Be there in four minutes."

Miranda tries to take a step, but her legs are suddenly like jelly, and she stumbles. Liara reflexively snaps out a biotic field to catch her and frowns worriedly. "Should I carry her?" she asks.

Shepard shakes her head. "Nope. If we run into any banshees or phantoms I'd like you to have your hands and your superpowers free. Garrus, take point. Li, any sign of trouble I want a barrier round these two." She unclips her sidearm, primes it and hands it to Oriana. "Aim for the centre of the chest, the biggest part of the target," she instructs. She bends and swings Miranda easily into her arms. "Let's move."

Miranda lets her head loll against Shepard's shoulder, content to be looked after just this once. But as they step out of the building into the bright afternoon sunshine, the shock of seeing Shepard properly makes her gasp. Her friend looks like death warmed up; pale and gaunt, with fatigue stamped into every line of her face and into the dark shadows ringing her eyes. Fine lines of silver are starting to show in her hair. The stress she must be under is beyond easy imagining. "You look like hell, Shep," Miranda says unguardedly. "Are you all right?"

Liara glances across sharply, watching her lover as the Commander grimaces. "I've been better," she allows. "It's OK, Miri, I'm just tired. Nothing a vacation won't cure."

Liara looks down at the ground, and Miranda can sense the awkwardness; it's clear Liara is worried, and that Shepard is aware of both that and her own condition, but her sense of duty won't let her put the brakes on while the Reapers continue to threaten everything. At this moment, there's nothing Miranda can really offer, but she feels compelled to try. "Well, make sure you take one. I didn't spend two years of my life making you stronger, faster, and prettier just so you could bang up the bodywork nine months down the line. The idea wasn't for you to test it to destruction. Be a bit more bloody careful with my masterpiece, will you? I have a reputation to maintain, after all."

The tension breaks. Shepard barks a laugh, Liara chuckles, and Garrus is sniggering as the shuttle drops in to land beside them. Miranda smiles contentedly as Oriana gives her a discreet thumbs up. Friends and family - for this brief time, in some small way, Miranda has everything she's ever dared to hope for. Cherishing the moment, she slides gently into medicated slumber.


	4. Samantha Traynor

**A/N: **_Thanks for the reviews/faces/follows/views, everyone! I'm glad you're enjoying these little snapshots as much as I am! Shout-out to ReavansMask for catching a gaping plot oversight as well - thanks for the catch, pal!_

* * *

**Specialist Samantha Traynor, Communications Officer, Systems Alliance**

_"Sammy, what's going on?"_

_The entire house is shaking, the vibration too sustained, too dispersed through ground and air to be an earthquake. Besides, the colony is nowhere near any tectonically active zones. So what the hell is it? Some kind of storm? Walking over to the window, Samantha Traynor peers out to check the weather, and is transfixed by what she sees._

_In the middle of a clear sky, angry, dark clouds are boiling up, seemingly from nowhere. Lightning dances through the grey-purple mass of water vapour, and in the centre of the maelstrom, she sees… a ship?_

Sam shakes herself clear of the terrified memory triggered by the Reaper attack on Earth as the Normandy's engines thunder with the same reverberation she remembers from that fateful morning on Horizon. "Wait, what's going on? Are we… leaving atmosphere?" she asks the CIC at large.

Privates Westmoreland and Campbell, on station at the door to the elevator, both shrug. "Seems that way," Campbell offers laconically after a moment.

"_Logged_," EDI, the Normandy's sexy-voiced VI, announces suddenly. "_Change in commanding officer. All hands, general alert. SSV Normandy, new officer commanding, Commander Rachel Shepard, is aboard. Commander Shepard has the deck._"

Sam's heart lurches. Commander Shepard's on board? _The_ Commander Shepard? What happened to Admiral Anderson? Before she has time to let the information that her personal hero, the woman who saved her family from abduction that terrible day on Horizon, is aboard the ship sink in, the comm terminal lights up with incoming flash traffic. Admiral Hackett is trying to get through. "Um, Joker, there's a flash priority one call coming in from Admiral Hackett," she reports. "Shall I route it down to the Commander?"

"I've got it already, Traynor, thanks," Joker responds shortly. Sam busies herself trying to stabilize the signal, trying not to feel offended at being shut out by their smug smart arse of a pilot, trying to ignore the muttered speculation being batted back and forth between the two marines behind her. Lieutenant Commander Williams had been adamant in her orders that Joker be given his liberty, but curiously, neither member of his guard detail seems especially happy to have been released from the burden of babysitting they used to spend so much time bitching about.

The shipwide comm crackles to life suddenly. "Joker, set a course for the Mars Archives," a woman's voice orders, a rich alto resonant with command.

"Mars?" Joker sounds surprised, but he recovers quickly. "Roger that, Commander."

_Why are we going to Mars,_ Sam wonders. _What's on Mars that could possibly be of any use?_ She contemplates asking, decides she has nothing to lose. "Joker?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are we going to Mars?"

"Hell if I know."

_That's not awfully helpful_. "Couldn't you ask?"

"Yeah, sure, I _could_, but the Commander doesn't sound like she's in the mood for questions, and I kinda like my balls where they are."

Sam sighs. She'll get nothing more from the pilot. He doesn't really trust her, she realises. Anytime he's seen her he's been brought aboard under guard to help her access EDI's command and control of the Normandy's systems, and he's always looked down his nose at her, a superior smirk on his lips that Sam would really like to slap off his face. It's a look that proclaims he knows something she doesn't, and while she's completely prepared to accept that as a general statement, she doesn't like the inference being specifically applied to her field of expertise. _Forget it, Sam, just concentrate on doing your job_.

Two tense hours of plotting fleet combat data later, watching the Reapers inflicting a terrible toll on her people's homeworld, selfishly relieved that her parents are not down there, Sam's still none the wiser as to their mission, but suddenly, shockingly, without even a warning, the Normandy is diving into atmosphere to make emergency pick-up on the shore party, with the shuttle apparently wrecked in some sort of collision (news that has Lieutenant Cortez muttering deprecations over the open comm about Lieutenant Vega's piloting skills). Minutes later, while Sam is still recovering from the bout of motion sickness brought on by the atmospheric manoeuvres the ship has performed, a single sentence punctuates the stillness of the bridge.

"Get us to the Citadel, Joker!"

The pilot complies with alacrity, banking sharply to an exit vector. "Roger that."

Sam looks down at her readouts, seeing a sudden, massive convergence of Reaper forces bearing down on Mars. "Multiple contacts, repeat, multiple contacts, we have Reaper signatures on multiple vectors, closing fast!" she calls out.

"Yeah, Traynor, EDI's got them," Joker confirms.

"Oh, right. Good." Deflated, Sam looks down at her board again. _So now what do I do?_

"Commander I'm receiving a signal over the secondary QEC," EDI reports, snapping Sam out of her moment of existential anxiety. _Hang on a tick, that's my job. Since when does the bloody VI interact without direction?_

"I'm on my way up. Patch me through," the Commander's voice orders quickly. A few moments later, the doors to the elevator hisses open, and Sam spins around to see a red-haired woman step off, dressed in a full combat hardsuit with the distinctive N7 bloodstripe down the right arm. She barges past the marine detail and Sam, oblivious to the snap-tos and salutes. "EDI, is the comm room still in working order?" she calls, still moving, the voice leaving Sam in no doubt as to the woman's identity.

"The comm room has been retrofitted to Alliance standard layout, Shepard, but it remains in the same place."

"Great. And can you clear Liara for access all systems, all areas, please."

"Affirmative, Shepard."

The commander disappears through the door, and the three women left in her wake eye each other nervously, questions darting through the hive mind of their shared uncertainty. _Did Commander Shepard really just blaze through here like a heat-seeking missile? What the hell's going on? Why are we leaving Sol?_

A few moments later, an asari arrives in the CIC, breaking the groupthink. The marines reflexively block her route, and she arches her eyebrows in surprise, but takes a pace back, offering no resistance. "Joker, would you vouch for me, please?" she calls in a pleasant, mellifluous voice.

"Oh, Liara, hey! Welcome back, Doc!" Joker's voice brims with pleasure; it's evident that he knows the asari. "Sure. Everybody, this is Dr. Liara T'Soni. She can flay you alive with her mind, so don't piss her off."

The asari pinches the bridge of her nose and winces, flushing a dark shade of purple. "Goddess, _when_ will I learn? _Thank you_, Joker."

"Sure thing, Doc," Joker chuckles. "Oh, and marines? Commander Shepard cleared Liara for full access, so I'd let her by if I were you."

Campbell and Westmoreland step apart with grudging nods. Sam smiles encouragingly, and is greeted with a shy smile in response. "Commander Shepard is in the comm room if you're looking for her," Sam offers.

Liara T'Soni nods an acknowledgement. "Thank you." She follows the Normandy's new commander at a dignified pace. Sam's fascinated; Horizon was too far off the beaten track to see much alien traffic, and her student days on Earth and subsequent work in Alliance R and D has meant she's never actually met an asari in the flesh before. Liara T'Soni carries herself with an innate grace and confidence that definitely has Sam's attention; coupled with the lithe, well-proportioned body, the stylish white light-armour ensemble, an extremely pretty face, and those deep sapphire-blue eyes, she's everything Traynor's come to expect from the vids.

Musing on the attractiveness of the asari is distracting enough as Sam tries to get back to what she was doing before the Normandy launched, but when their commanding officer storms back out of the comm room a few minutes later, and Sam gets her first good look at her hero in the flesh, her attention span for phased quantum signal amplitude diffracts completely, and her poor libido goes into overdrive. _Oh dear God in heaven. _

Still encased in her hardsuit, it's difficult to get a sense of the precise proportions of Commander Shepard's body, but she's taller than Sam by a good five inches, and even allowing for the suit, far more built and broad shouldered than the slight communications specialist. Her bobbed auburn hair is adorably messed up from her recent combat engagement, and her green eyes, set atop high cheekbones dusted with freckles, are blazing with anger. She walks with the purpose and confidence of a stalking predator, every movement agile, balanced, telegraphing her lethal competence. Sam's never really had a thing for redheads, but bloody hell, this woman's a once in a lifetime opportunity. That body, that voice, that confidence? Good God, _what_ must it be like to have all that passionate, dangerous grace let loose in the bedroom? _God all-bloody-mighty, Samantha, you don't even know if she bats for your team. Get a bloody grip, woman!_

When Sam finally works through her moment of awed hard-on, Shepard has gone, headed to her cabin. _Better that way_, Sam thinks wryly. _At least if I'm going to make a complete ass of myself when I report for duty, no one else will be a witness._

"Excuse me?"

Sam nearly jumps out of her skin at the voice sounding almost in her ear. She spins around to see the asari standing behind her. "Christ, you're a bit sneaky, aren't you?" The admonishment slips out before Sam can stop it, and she blushes in anticipation of how stupid the alien must think her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Dr. T'Soni apologises, a faint blush staining her own cheeks. "Are you managing the Normandy's comm systems?"

"Um, yes. Yes I am." Flustered, Sam retreats to the regulated, safe ground of formal introductions, where ad lib is not a required skill. "Comm Specialist Samantha Traynor. Nice to meet you."

"Liara T'Soni," the asari introduces herself simply. "Likewise. Specialist, I wonder if you could assist me. I need a dedicated link out to a specific communications protocol from the terminal in the executive officer's cabin. Could you clear that for me?"

"Uh, yes, I could, sure." Belatedly, Sam remembers this is an Alliance warship and there are regs – lots of regs - about unauthorised comm channels and suchlike. "Why do you need it?"

The asari smiles. "I'm an information broker. If I'm to be of help to the Normandy, to Commander Shepard, I will need access to my sources and feeds."

"Well," says Sam dubiously, "If Commander Shepard has cleared it."

"Specialist Traynor, Commander Shepard has authorised Dr. T'Soni for access to all systems," EDI reminds her primly, and Sam kicks herself. _Great. Way to make an impression, Sam_.

"It's all right, EDI," Dr. T'Soni says easily. "It's no trouble to reconfirm." Before Sam can protest (and what is it with EDI yapping to everyone all of a sudden?), the asari activates her omni-tool. "Shepard?"

"Yeah, Li, what do you need?" Shepard's response is immediate, warm, casually familiar. Sam kicks herself again. Of course the asari is a close friend of the Commander's. Of course she is. Now Sam will have to contend with a funny tale about 'the idiot comm specialist Joker hauled off-world with him.'

"Would you mind reconfirming your orders regarding my access to the ship's systems, please?"

There's a pause, into which Sam reads a thousand imminent reprimands, then, "sure. EDI, let the log show that as of this date, this time, Dr. Liara T'Soni, serving as intelligence specialist, is authorised to access all systems, all areas of the SSV Normandy. By order of the commanding officer, Commander Rachel Shepard, and further authorized for all information classified eyes-only CO, on my authority as a Council Spectre." There's another pause. "Will that do? Anyone that's not clear enough for can get their ass up to my cabin to explain to me what it is they don't understand."

"So noted, Commander," EDI acknowledges. "Your orders are logged."

"That will definitely do. Thank you, Commander," T'Soni adds.

"No problem, Li. Shepard out."

The asari looks enquiringly at Sam, who nods quickly and begins to work. "I'm really sorry, Dr. T'Soni. I'm a lab rat, a researcher – all this military protocol stuff really isn't my thing. I'm still trying to find my way."

"I know how you feel, it's perfectly all right," T'Soni replies. "I'm not military myself – I'm an archaeologist by training."

"Really? How'd you get mixed up in all this?"

The asari chuckles softly. "Now, that, Specialist Traynor, is a _very_ long story."

Sam offers a shy smile. "Maybe you'd tell me it sometime?"

"If you're going to be aboard this ship for any length of time, I'm quite sure you'll hear it over and over again in excruciating detail," Dr. T'Soni says with an answering smile. "But for now, there's a lot to do."

"Right, of course." Sam makes the last few adjustments. "You're all set, Dr. T'Soni."

"Thank you, Specialist." The asari nods her thanks and walks back to the elevator. Sam watches her go, then begins to pull together a briefing report on the Normandy's refit for Commander Shepard. It'll be as good a way as any to break the ice, she figures.


	5. Urdnot Wrex

**Wrex, Urdnot Clan Chief**

Wrex takes a deep breath as he steps aboard the Normandy. This is not the ship he knew, the original Alliance vessel destroyed by the Collectors, but it smells the same, layers of human sweat and anxiety, punctuated here and there with turian and asari, and something else he can't quite identify. No quarian yet, but that's surely only a matter of time. He grins savagely at the human crew member approaching him, a female who looks barely old enough to be off her mother's tit, enjoying the way the infant flinches away in apprehension. "Uh… Urdnot Wrex?" the human stammers.

"That's me," Wrex agrees cheerfully, delivering a friendly pat to the shoulder that staggers the girl forward two full steps. "Take me to your leader."

"Uh, Commander Shepard's compliments, sir, I'm to escort you to the port observation lounge to wait for the conference to begin."

"Can't be bothered to come down and meet me herself, is that it?" Wrex growls, enjoying the way the human goes a pasty shade of white.

"No, sir! The Commander is in a meeting with the Council. Uh… she said she'd meet you as soon as possible."

"Getting too high and mighty for her own good, that one. Maybe it's time I dispensed another of my galactically famous lessons in manners." Wrex unlimbers his shotgun, checking the barrel carefully, stifling a snort of laughter as he sees the human girl's eyes grow wide as saucers. Too easy. "Mind you, I'm not sure how well you humans rig your ships for accidental hull breach. You do have active emergency mass effect fields, don't you?"

"We do." A familiar voice rings across the shuttle bay, and Wrex's grin widens in genuine pleasure.

"And how would you know?" he challenges, raising a voice to a bellow. "I thought your field of expertise was digging up dead civilisations, not starship environmental systems."

Liara T'Soni smiles as she advances from the elevator. "When you live on board a ship for any length of time, I find you become very interested in the systems that keep you alive." She turns to regard the object of Wrex's torment. "Ensign, thank you. I believe Lieutenant Moreau was looking for you – I can look after Wrex from here."

The young woman flashes a relieved, almost hero-worshipping look at the asari and throws a polished salute. "Yes, ma'am!" She nods quickly to Wrex and hurries away, and Liara waits until she's out of earshot before turning to regard the krogan warlord with amusement.

"Enjoying yourself, Wrex?" she asks wryly. "That poor girl was suitably terrified by you, I thought."

"Hah! Not going to much use against Reapers, is she, if she's scared of me?"

"Well, you can be quite frightening up close, old friend," Liara chuckles as she closes to lay her hand on Wrex's armoured shoulder as he ships his shotgun. "I remember I was somewhat perturbed by you when first we met."

"You were a shy little bookworm when we first met, Liara. And just look at you now. Giving orders to human military officers, and getting salutes, and not the slightest bit afraid of old Wrex."

Liara pulls a face. "Yes, well, Shepard saw fit to appoint me as her executive officer. None of the humans quite know how to deal with it, so they rely on protocol." She smiles deprecatingly. "It means I get a lot of salutes."

"Have you actually been giving orders?" Wrex grins.

"No, of course not. I delegate that to Garrus."

"That bird-brain? Does he have time to give orders if he's doing all that calibrating?"

Liara laughs in delight. "I've missed you, Wrex. And I'm not the only one who's changed. Urdnot clan chief?"

"Yeah, well, someone had to beat some sense into them," Wrex huffs deprecatingly. "We've been fighting among ourselves for too long. It has to stop. Curing the genophage should be the first goal of all krogan. If we can't even agree on that, we probably don't deserve to survive."

Liara starts walking, gesturing for him to accompany her. "You're making steady progress, though, aren't you? Most of the clans are either your allies or too weak to mount a serious challenge, especially after you put down the Weyrloc and bought off the Gatatog."

Wrex shoots her a sidelong glance as they step into the elevator. She knows a lot, if she knows about that. "Keeping tabs on me, are you, Pretty Blue?"

Liara inclines her head gently. "I am," she agrees. "For my own interest, though, as much as for any political reasons. You're my friend, Wrex; if the situation arises where I'm in a position to help you, I'd like to be ready to act."

"I appreciate that, Liara," Wrex rumbles as he follows the slender asari across the crew deck to the cabin that would have been Shepard's on the old Normandy. "This Shepard's cabin?"

"No." The doors hiss back as they recognise Liara's DNA signature. "The new Normandy's bigger than the old one – there's a small deck above the CIC, and Shepard's cabin is up there. This is mine."

"Nice," Wrex approves dryly, noting the racks of servers and the bank of monitors commanding one wall. "Cosy, even. And hey, you got a window."

"What?" Liara looks over at the small window. "Oh. Yes. Not that I'm spending much time enjoying the view. There's so much to do, so much data to process."

"That can't leave much time for you and Shepard to be bumping uglies, huh?"

Liara blinks at him, nonplussed. "What?"

"Never mind, you can ask Joker what it means later," Wrex grins. He doesn't need the verbal confirmation; the cabin is laced with pheromones, not all of them Liara's. The asari frowns at him for a moment, then blushes violently as she catches on, a tiny "oh!" dropping from her lips as she drops her gaze. Wrex roars with laughter.

"So, you haven't changed _that_ much, little girl Shadow Broker, if talking about sex still makes you go purple," he leers.

Liara throws him a mock glare, then lets out a long-suffering sigh. "You're as bad, or worse, than Joker, do you know that?"

"I should hope so. I have centuries on that fragile little pyjak."

Liara pinches the bridge of her nose for a moment, then locks gazes with him. "To answer your question, once and once only, yes, Wrex, I'm having sex with Shepard. Quite a lot of sex, as it happens. And there's nothing ugly about her."

"Ah, beauty's in the eye of the beholder," Wrex shrugs, impressed with Liara's quick recovery. Three years ago she'd have run and hid. More seriously, he reaches out to pat the asari's shoulder gently. "Good. From the look of this thing, she's going to need you with her, and for a lot more than just stress release. How's she handling it?"

"So far, not too badly," Liara says softly, and Wrex notes the worry in the asari's crystal blue eyes. Both he and Liara know that Shepard is prone to pushing herself too hard, too far, too long in pursuit of a goal. That drive is one of her more kroganish tendencies, one of the reasons Wrex admires the human so, but in a long campaign, you have to ration your resources. And with the Reapers advancing on almost every front, this isn't going to be a quick skip across the galaxy to confront a rogue Spectre on a dead planet. This is going to be a long haul. Wrex remembers his father's stories of the rachni war and the krogan rebellions, how long the old man had fought, and the Reapers are sure to be a bigger challenge than the rachni or the turians.

"Well, so long as she paces herself," he offers. "After all, there are a lot of those Reaper bastards for us to kill."

"Indeed there are, Wrex." Liara turns to regard him, the moment of personal reflection over. "So, let's get to work. Shepard asked me to brief you in. They're going to ask you to help the turians. Palaven's in desperate straits."

"And why should I give a damn about that?" Wrex shrugs. He already knows this, but he wants a better feel for the situation before he gets into the conference room. He's spent too long dealing with krogan politics - his grasp of the subtleties of intergalactic diplomacy is rusty.

Liara arches an eyebrow marking at him. "You know why. You're neither stupid nor short-sighted. No one race can muster enough firepower to defeat the Reaper fleet. We need to work together if we're to have any hope of defeating them."

"Yes, we do," Wrex agrees, "but try to see this from my viewpoint, Liara. We've been here before - the last desperate hope of a galaxy against a seemingly undefeatable enemy. If we're going to be asked to play the heroes once more, we need assurances. My people are dying anyway - if we can't solve that, we're far better off dying fighting than withering away one sterile egg at a time."

Liara's eyes narrow in thought. "You're going to ask for a cure for the genophage, aren't you?"

Wrex is impressed. "Sharp as ever, Liara. Yes. I am. We'll never get another chance. There's an opportunity right now, and if I don't take it, what kind of leader can I claim to be?"

"You're right," Liara says simply. "But you realize it's going to look like extortion, don't you?"

"Screw what it looks like, I only care about what it is. I have to save my people - the hell with what people think of me."

Liara grins, and stretches up to kiss him on the cheek. "You're a good man, Wrex. I hope the krogan understand how lucky they are to have you." She steps over to the bank of monitors mounted on the bulkhead. "I don't know Victus that well, but from what Garrus says he's a practical man and a radical thinker. He'll most likely resist at first out of reflex, likely because what you're asking will seem impossible. Do you have a plan for a cure? Because if you don't, it's going to sound rather like that human expression... oh, what is it? Oh, yes - when hell freezes over."

Wrex eyes his old comrade cagily. He trusts her, but this is something so secret he hasn't told anyone. "Yes. I do have a plan, and it's a viable one, but it's time sensitive."

"All right. Shepard will be sympathetic - ever since she and Mordin Solus shut down that bootleg lab on Tuchanka... Goddess." She looks up at Wrex in astonishment. "You've got the data from Maelon Hoplorn?"

It's an excellent deduction, closer to the truth than Wrex is comfortable with, but it at least offers him some cover from the asari's razor-sharp intellect. If she keeps up this line of thought, she might well figure the whole thing out. "Yes. We can use it to finish the job."

Liara nods. "I thought it might be something like that. All right, Shepard will back you, and Victus can be brought around. Dalatrass Linron will be your biggest obstacle. She's vehemently anti-krogan, and the salarians haven't really been targeted yet - there's a good chance she'll baulk at helping you."

"I don't care. Turian and human, with the asari abstaining, is enough to get me the leverage I need."

"Then you might as well play hardball with the Dalatrass. She'll not be swayed once she makes her decision. There's not enough enlightened self-interest there as yet."

A chime at the door forestalls Wrex's response. Liara calls a greeting, and the doors slide open to admit a burly human male casually dressed in BDU pants and a t-shirt. "Hey, Blue, the Primarch asked me to bring Urdnot Wrex to the conference room. Shepard's just finishing up with the Council."

"Right." Liara smiles at Wrex. "Good luck old friend."

"Thanks, Liara."

"Are you ready?"

"I have to be." With that, Wrex nods to the human soldier, ready to take a step into a larger galaxy. "OK, runt, let's go."


	6. Gabby Daniels

**Gabriella Daniels, Engineering Specialist, Systems Alliance**

"Thumbprint here and here, Daniels." C-Sec doesn't look too happy about that, Gabby notices; he has that sour-mouthed look bureaucratic types tend to display when someone pulls rank on them. And rank pulling doesn't get much more in your face for the Citadel cops than a communique from Spectre command, authorizing the release of your suspects. Gabby tries not to grin too much as she presses her thumb down on the required tabs, but the knowledge that she's getting out of here makes it hard to be sober. C-Sec sighs heavily as he takes the datapad back. "Just remember, I've got my eye on you and that clown Donnelly; one of you so much as puts a foot out of line I'll have you both back here before you can blink."

"Whatever," Gabby drawls, irked by the jumped-up little jobsworth and his piss-poor bad cop routine, but trying not to let him get to her. She knows it's calculated, knows it's just his way of making a last-ditch effort to provoke her into something that'll let him detain her on an unrelated charge. _I'm getting out of here if I don't lose my cool. Just keep breathing, Gabby_.

"Whatever?" C-Sec puffs up with self-important ire. "You think you're so smart, don't you, Daniels? Well, I got a newsflash for ya. This rap sheet says you're a Cerberus agent, and I'm not buying your 'fight the good fight' story for a minute. You're a goddamn terrorist, and we've got proof, no matter what any Spectre says." He leans in close with an unpleasant smile. "I gotta say, though, I can't help but wonder - why would a Spectre even be interested in gutter trash like you? You good at munching carpet? Or maybe it's true what they say - that she's a Cerberus plant, and they set this whole thing up to make her look good, get her in nice and close. Shepard saves the day, big hero all over again, and now suddenly she's springing Cerberus goons from custody? What do you make of that?"

"I make of it that you're an even bigger idiot than I thought," Gabby snarks, unable to keep a rein on her temper any longer. "Jesus, you really think Shepard would need a staged coup to get in "nice and close"? She's a Spectre for fuck's sake - she gets unlimited access to everything and everyone. She could take out the Council in a heartbeat if she wanted to. And as for what she wants with me," a burst of pride shoots through Gabby, "I'm one of her crew. And you're damn right I'm good in bed - there's no doubt in my mind that I could satisfy a woman far better than you ever could."

C-Sec scowls, his cheeks mottling red with rage, and Gabby realizes belatedly that her last jab was possibly not the smartest move she has ever made. The cop takes a step forward, clenching his fists, and his muscles bunch dangerously under his compression shirt. "Better watch your tone, Daniels," he spits. "I'd just hate for your association with Cerberus to leak out to some of the alien factions around here, especially after all the shit that just went down in the coup."

Cold fear settles abruptly in Gabby's gut. There have been stories on the Citadel News Network of humans being tortured and even murdered for being thought to have ties to Cerberus - down on the lower wards, the burden of proof isn't something the angry, grieving alien population is concerned with. This asshole has the power to get her killed, and the recognition that she can't do anything to stop him drains the strength from her knees. _You bastard._

C-Sec grins nastily as he realizes he's hit a nerve. "Oh yeah, that bothers you, doesn't it, Daniels? If you have nothing to do with Cerberus, why are you so worried?" He sneers triumphantly. "So... watch yourself out there, won't you? It's a dangerous galaxy, and I can be terribly absent-minded sometimes - one datapad looks so much like another, after all, and... holy shit!"

C-Sec goes chalk white, and as Gabby twists around to see what could possibly have provoked his sudden terror she can't help the delighted grin that spreads across her face. Standing in the doorway, arms folded across her armoured chest, a fierce scowl adorning her famous features, is none other than the first human Spectre, in the flesh. At her side, and looking equally irritated, is a senior C-Sec officer Gabby doesn't recognise.

Shepard pivots to regard her companion. "What the hell kind of operation are you running here, Commander Bailey?" she demands incredulously, gesturing in Gabby's general direction.

Bailey snorts. "This isn't any operation I've been running, Shepard, you know me better than that." He turns his glower on his colleague. "What the fuck do you think you're playing at, son?"

Shepard looks over at Gabby. "Did he threaten you, Daniels?"

Gabby nods; the tone of Shepard's voice demands a straight up answer. "Yes, ma'am. Said he'd leak my rap sheet to alien vigilantes."

"Is that so?" Shepard's gaze flicks back to Commander Bailey. "Wow. Awkward."

"Yeah, no kidding."

"Bit embarrassing for you, Bailey, huh? Bent C-Sec officers threatening Alliance personnel?"

"You just can't get the staff nowadays," Bailey sighs theatrically.

"If my friend Emily Wong at CNN were to hear about this, well, gee, can you imagine the headlines? "Crooked cops compound Cerberus coup catastrophe"."

Bailey regards Shepard with a pained grimace. "Yeah, that'd be just peachy," he mutters sourly. "I don't suppose there's any way to avoid getting the press involved," he hazards, eyebrows raising in hopeful query.

"Well, if you want I could just shoot him," Shepard offers, totally straight-faced. "Get him out of your hair once and for all? Call it a favour to a friend."

"You can't do that!" C-Sec protests, "you ain't got no right to..." He cuts off, staring in wide-eyed horror as Shepard pulls her sidearm and points it at him. Gabby watches with interest, trying not to revel too much in the cop's discomfort; _she_ knows Shepard would never pull the trigger, but _he_ doesn't.

"Yeah, Officer..." Shepard leans in, peers at his badge, "Carlton. I can. Because I'm a _Spectre_. Do you get what that means? I'm not answerable to the law. And I mean _really_ not answerable to it - it's not just that I get to skip the paperwork. I decide my own rules. I have absolute authority to act as I see fit. If I judge you to be hampering me in the execution of my duty, or even if I simply decide the galaxy's better off rid of you, I can just shoot you." Shepard glares at him. "See, Officer Carlton, _this_ is what it feels like when people who are placed in a position of authority over you abuse their power for kicks. I can kill you, in front of witnesses, just because I feel like it. I won't get into trouble, and there's not a damn thing anyone can do to stop me." She presses the pistol to Carlton's chest, holds the pose for a moment as the cop cringes, tears streaming from his closed eyes, then holsters her weapon. "Fortunately for you, I'm not Saren or Vasir. But don't you _ever_ threaten someone in your custody again."

"He won't," Bailey growls. "I needed someone to volunteer to go crawling through the Keeper tunnels looking for Cerberus booby-traps, but it looks like I've found my man. That'll keep him occupied long enough for me to draw up his discharge papers." The C-Sec Commander turns to Gabby. "On behalf of C-Sec, Miss Daniels, my apologies."

"Thanks, Commander," Gabby acknowledges. "So... I'm free to go?"

"Sure are," Bailey confirms. "I'd better get this mess cleaned up, then make sure Donnelly's release is properly handled. No rest for the wicked." He sighs again, then winks at Shepard. "See you around, Shepard."

"Yeah, be seeing you, Bailey. Send Donnelly along as soon as you can, will ya?" Shepard nods towards the door. "C'mon Gabby, I'm heading back to the Normandy. Walk with me?"

Gabby's never considered herself much of a fangirl, but the idea of being seen walking through the Presidium with Commander Shepard gives her an undeniable buzz. "Yes, ma'am!" she agrees enthusiastically, grabbing her duffle and falling into step with the Spectre, who sets a brisk pace as they set out across the manicured perfection of the embassy level. "Commander, thanks for getting me...us... out of there."

"Nothing to thank me for, Daniels, I'm only sorry I couldn't get the two of you sprung sooner." Shepard grimaces. "It's been a bit hectic since I got off Earth. And I'm sorry you had to do six months in the slammer on my behalf."

"That wasn't your fault, ma'am," Gabby objects. "Kenneth and I knew what we were doing when we quit the Alliance and joined the SR-2. That was before we even knew you were alive. We volunteered, we knew the consequences. You shouldn't feel bad about it, ma'am. It's a small price to pay for the good we did. I'd do it again in a minute, and I'm big enough to take responsibility for my own actions."

Shepard stops walking, turns to look the engineer square in the face, a lopsided grin quirking her mouth. "Well, damn, Daniels, consider _me_ well and truly put in my place."

Gabby feels her face heat with embarrassment. "Aw shit... pardon me, ma'am. It's... ah, for the last six months, all these people have been coming down on me, trying to make me think and say that what I did was wrong, that what you did was wrong... betraying the Alliance, betraying our friends and families. I could never accept that... I didn't..." To her horror, Gabby feels tears welling up, the tight, scorching pain of a sob building in her chest. _Jesus, I'm gonna cry like a baby in front of Commander Shepard? No frickin' way!_ Blinking furiously, she spins away from the Spectre, hurrying to the balcony to look out over the artificial tranquility of the lake below.

There's a gentle footfall behind her. "Talk to me, Gabby," Shepard invites, moving to stand beside her, back to the view so she can focus on Gabby directly. "Did Carlton say anything else? 'Cos it's not too late for me to go back and shoot him."

The weak joke arrests Gabby's descent into tears, and she snorts half-heartedly as she scrubs at her cheeks. "Nah, unless you missed the part where he suggested you were busting me out for my sexual prowess."

Shepard blinks. "Let's assume I didn't get there that early," she says, clearly somewhat nonplussed.

"Right," Gabby blushes. "Uh, OK, not important anyway. I just... every time someone started on at me about betraying humanity, I remembered what it was like... being captured by the Collectors. Being so helpless, frozen by those bug things. I was on the bridge when they attacked us; I could hear Kelly screaming, right before they closed the lid on the pod they stuffed me in. Man, it was like being buried." Gabby takes a deep, shaky breath; the visceral terror of that day has never quite left her, still has the power to haunt her sleep months later. She wonders for a moment what became of Kelly.

Shepard's face is pinched with sympathy as she reaches out to squeeze Gabby's shoulder. "I joined Cerberus because I was angry at the way the Council had tried to whitewash Sovereign," Gabby continues, "and deep down I always questioned whether I'd done the right thing. But when you and Miranda pulled me out of that pod, that's when all my doubts vanished. The Collectors had taken thousands of people, and they would have taken thousands more, done to them what they tried to do to me, to us. Put them through that pain, that terror, then killed them to make that nightmare machine. We didn't betray humanity, the people who sat back and let that happen are the real traitors. And you put a stop to it." She jerked her thumb back over her shoulder at the C-Sec outpost. "That jumped-up bunch of jackasses haven't got the first clue about what went down, about what woulda happened if you hadn't blown that base to hell and gone, and it made me so frickin' angry to hear them go on about honour and duty like they had any idea what they were talking about. And the Alpha relay - Jesus, as if you'd have destroyed the damn thing if there'd been any other choice! God, it made me so mad."

"Yeah, it's always easier to talk the good fight than to actually fight it," Shepard notes sadly. "Stopping the Collectors, though, Gabby - _we_ did that. Not me. You, and Kenneth, Kelly and Miranda, Joker and me, and everyone else on the Normandy. We're a team, we get it done together. You guys being taken is one of the biggest regrets of my life - I failed you all, badly, on that one."

Gabby shakes her head. "It was supposed to be a suicide mission. We all knew that. We all knew we weren't supposed to be coming back. You changed that. You got us out. You and the people you brought in, you changed the rules, changed the game, and we all came home because of you." She looks over and Shepard and sees doubt in the Commander's expression, a rarity indeed. "So, you don't get a choice about whether you want me back on the ship. I'm one of your crew, Commander. If together's how we get this shit... uh, stuff... done, then that's how it's going to be. And frankly, I don't trust anyone else not to get me killed." Gabby watches Shepard's grin start to ignite, watches the doubt fade. "And besides, no-one knows the Normandy better than Kenneth and me. Except maybe Tali."

The Commander's grin broadens and she starts to laugh. "Well, if you put it like that, ma'am, how can I possibly refuse?" She punches Gabby lightly on the arm. "It's a privilege to have you back on my team, Daniels; Lieutenant Adams is going to love having you and Donnelly around to help him. And we're heading out to the Far Rim to check on the Quarians, so who knows? We might even manage to press-gang Miss vas Normandy." Shepard's omni-tool lights up with an incoming message, and she stops to activate it. The haptic screen pops up, and Dr. T'Soni's face resolves. "Liara, what's up?"

"This may not be a good time..."

"When is it ever?" Shepard sighs.

"True," the asari concedes with a faint smile. "A contact within asari high command was insistent that I pass on a distress signal to you."

"Let me guess - something they can't handle?" Shepard asks wryly, rolling her eyes at Gabby, who has to stifle a giggle.

"From what I can tell they sent several commando squads to investigate. None of them returned. They didn't ask me directly, but I think high command is hoping you might help."

"Oh, sure, because we're who you send for when _asari commandos_ don't cut it." Shepard grimaces. "What's your take on this?"

"That they wouldn't ask for help if it wasn't important." Dr. T'Soni shrugs eloquently. "I'll have to find more information."

"That'd be good. OK, I'm heading back now with Daniels. Donnelly will be along shortly, and then we can head out. We can swing by asari space on our way to the Far Rim - hopefully whatever it is won't take too long to check out."

"All right. I'll see you when you get here."

"You got it. Shepard out." Shepard kills the omni-tool, then looks over at Gabby. "Like Bailey said, no rest for the wicked. Ready to get going on kicking the Reapers the hell out of our galaxy, Daniels?" She holds out a fist and Gabby bumps it with her own.

"Bring it on, Boss. Bring it on."


	7. Joker

**Flight Lieutenant Jeff "Joker" Moreau, Prisoner on Remand, Systems Alliance**

The first hint Joker has that anything's wrong is, naturally, a heads-up from EDI. "Chatter on the emergency comm frequencies has spiked five hundred percent in the last twenty minutes, Jeff," the AI informs him softly; Joker is alone in the cockpit, safe from being overheard. "Contact with the Arcturus Stream has been severed; Alliance command has been unable to reach Admirals Hackett, Singh, or Lindholm on any frequency."

"If you were a betting gal, EDI, what would your hunch be right about now?" Joker asks quietly. "Minor technical glitch, or Armageddon at the hands of the evil faceless robot bad guys?" _It's them. I can feel it in my gut_.

"Extrapolating from the timeline for Reaper arrival established by Shepard's destruction of the Alpha Relay, the probability of the sudden cessation of communications from Arcturus being a direct consequence of Reaper activity is in excess of approximately zero point nine nine eight five." A beat of silence. "In other words... no bet."

"No shit. Where are our babysitters?"

"Privates Campbell and Westmoreland are engaged in discussion with Specialist Traynor on the topic of the relative merits of my vocal harmonics."

Joker huffs an amused breath. "Pride of the Alliance Navy, right here on our bridge. Is anyone watching your output?"

"Lieutenant Adams has passive monitoring systems enabled. He will be alerted to any increase in my activity."

"Figures. Greg's always been a smartass and a busybody." Joker activates his private comm freak. "Adams, this is Joker."

"What do you need, Joker?"

"A little love, Adams. But right now I'll settle for you letting me spin up EDI's analysis suites and priming the engines for launch."

"And why would I want to do that?"

"Flash traffic is going through the roof, all channels, all frequencies. I think this is it, Adams. Check your feeds."

There's a pause as the Normandy's current ranking officer considers his options. "OK, Joker, go ahead and spin up. I'll begin pre-flight checks. If anyone asks, I told you to do it."

"Thanks, Greg." Joker's gratified by the trust. Adams is a good guy; he's never given Joker stick for his decision to quit for Cerberus, never treated him as anything other than a comrade and a friend. The last few months have made Joker realize how much he's missed the unflappable engineer.

"And Joker?" Adams adds.

"Yeah?"

"I really hope you're wrong."

"Yeah, I hear that. Joker out." Jeff turns to the sphere avatar that EDI manifests to keep him company. "You're hard at work already, I hope?"

"Yes, Jeff. But I regret to inform you that you are not wrong. Incoming transmissions from other Earth cities have alien vessels matching Reaper silhouettes touching down and attacking, targeting military command and control." EDI's avatar blinks off and back on suddenly. "Reaper vessels are inbound to Vancouver, targeting Navy HQ!"

Joker cranes his neck to peer out into the cloudy sky, and even as he watches, the nightmarish arachnid profile of Sovereign, unforgettably branded into Joker's retinas, resolves from a speck of black in the far distance, approaching at an alarming rate.

The Reapers are here. On Earth. Even though he knew this day was coming, it's somehow unbelievable."Holy shit."

"Jeff." EDI's voice is gentle. "We have work to do."

Joker shakes himself. "Yeah. OK, visual confirmation, enemy vessels inbound. We need to get off the ground." He slaps the comm interface. "Adams, it's the Reapers. I just saw one coming into land." Even as he speaks, there's an earth-shaking rumble and an ear-splitting electronic shriek as a blast of red laser shears through the sky above the cockpit viewport. Suddenly, the sky lights up with a blinding flash and Joker grunts in pain as he throws his arm over his face. "Dammit what was..."

"The SSV McKinley was just destroyed," EDI reports dispassionately.

Shit. A dreadnought taken out with a single shot. Joker hits the comm again, barely suppressing a shudder. "Greg, we have to get the fuck out of here, right now. We're a sitting duck in this dock."

"That's as may be, Joker," Adams replies uneasily, "but I don't have the codes to release her. We need someone with command clearance. Try to raise Anderson - he can authorize our release. I'll seal the ship for..."

"Normandy bridge, come in!" A new voice, but a familiar one, cuts across Greg's instructions, a hail on the Normandy's private emergency freak. Joker taps the receiver tab.

"Ash? Is that you?"

"Joker? Yeah, I'm in the airlock, open the damn hatch!"

"You got it."

Ash storms into the cockpit, drenched with sweat, uniform torn and bloodstained in several places, face grimy from soot and smoke, and Joker thinks she's never looked better. "Can you get us out of this damn death trap?" he demands urgently. "You're command ranked these days, right?"

"How the hell did you find that out?" Ash asks in surprise.

"Is this really the time to be asking after my sources? I'll fill you in later. C'mon, Williams, get us out of here."

"We need to get back in touch with Anderson and Shepard," Ash notes as she punches her clearance codes into the haptic interface. The mountain of muscle who came aboard with her nods agreement.

"Shepard's free?" Joker enquires. That's good news. Very good news. They're going to need the skipper if they're going to stop these bastards.

"Yeah, kind of," Ash confirms. She was with Anderson, testifying to the Defence Committee, right before HQ got blown to hell. They got out, they were heading for the spaceport. We need to find them. OK, done. Get us out of here, Joker."

"Excuse me, but who the hell are you?" Joker winces at the hostile tone of Private Westmoreland's voice, and turns his seat to see the marine, with Campbell at her side, pointing their sidearms at Ash. Traynor has edged up the bridge as well, loitering just within earshot.

"Wow, Westmoreland," he drawls. "Gutsy. Stupid... but gutsy."

"You shut up, Moreau," the PFC snipes back. "Till someone tells me different, you're still a jailbird under my jurisdiction. Get your hands away from that interface."

"We don't have time for this," Ash snaps. "Stow the sidearm and button your lip, marine. I'm Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams, and this is Lieutenant Vega. Until we get to the Admiral, I'm assuming temporary command of the Normandy."

Joker waves surreptitiously at EDI's avatar, and she responds with perfect timing. "Logged. Commander Williams has the deck. Lieutenant Adams stands relieved."

Ash's eyebrows climb, then she grins sharkishly. "Adams is aboard?" She looks up at the ceiling as though addressing a higher power. "Way to put the band back together. OK, on my authority, let the log show Jeff Moreau to be temporarily reinstated to active duty with the rank of Lieutenant, and all responsibilities and privileges pertaining thereunto."

"Logged, Lieutenant Commander."

Ash nods. "Great. Lieutenant Moreau's not your prisoner any longer, Private. Now, Joker, you and Adams get us out of here." She turns to look about the bridge. "This is it?"

"Skeleton crew, ma'am," Private Campbell replies sourly as she holsters her weapon. " The refit isn't complete."

"_Mierda_, I hope she's still got guns and shields," Vega offers with a grimace. Ash ignores the remark, focusing on Traynor.

"You - Specialist - can you handle the comm system?"

"Yes, ma'am - that's actually my post." Traynor, amazingly, manages not to stammer or wilt under Ash's hard-ass superior officer shtick.

"Good. Get me a link to Admiral Anderson. I don't care how you do it. Mr. Vega, with me in the cargo bay - we need to be ready to handle an extraction. Joker, the bridge is yours." With that Ash is gone at a run, with the other officer obediently in tow. Joker spares Traynor a glance - the specialist is staring after Ash, rooted to the spot.

"I heard the LC give you an order, Specialist," he prods. Anderson and Shepard's lives are in the balance, there's no time for little miss comm tech to be having a religious experience.

Traynor jumps. "Right," she agrees, blushing furiously. "I mean, yes sir."

"Never mind the sir, Joker's fine. Just get going, will ya? Marines, secure the bridge for combat." Joker makes a shooing gesture, and spins his chair, ignoring the filthy look Westmoreland shoots him as he taps open his comms. "Greg, you hear all that?"

"Yep. We're good to go as soon as you can, my man."

"Baby's gonna fly." Joker links his fingers and cracks his knuckles. "EDI, blow the dock."

"Hacking dock control... All moorings cleared. Running lights engaged, IFF activated and transmitting. All hatches and doors secure for space. All boards are green."

"All boards green, let's get outta here," Joker confirms, ignoring most of the launch protocol. Everyone on board knows what's happening by now anyway. Setting the thrusters to vertical vector, he fires up the drive core and the thrusters, a fierce, wild exultation swooping through him as he feels the familiar rumble deep in his chest, hears the tearing snarl of the thrusters firing, feels the welcome jolt of the ship lifting from the cradle as he slides his fingers down the thrust control, driving the ship into the air. "All right! We're back!" he crows jubilantly. "EDI, assume operational control of all functions bar helm."

"Specialist Traynor..."

"Is a lab rat with no combat experience. Let her handle finding Anderson, but I want you running the show. I trust you way more than I trust her."

"My plan to lull the naïve organics into a false sense of security is proceeding well."

"Funny girl."

"Admiral Anderson is attempting to hail us. Shall I patch him through to the LC?"

"Yeah, and put it on in here," Joker confirms.

"Admiral, what's your location?" Ash is asking as the signal resolves.

"By a downed ...ship in the harbour. I'm act..tress beacon. Send support...wounded down here..." The signal breaks down.

"What damn support?" Joker mutters under his breath, swinging the ship in a tight arc to evade beam fire. "EDI, prime the weapons systems. Let's demonstrate to Vega that we've got a bigger gun than he has."

"Confirmed. Picking up distress beacon telemetry. Triangulating."

"Great. Ash, we got a lock on Anderson. Swinging in now for pickup."

"Copy that, Joker, we're standing by," Ash responds.

"Enemy life signs closing on the Admiral's position. Shall I target them?" EDI asks.

"Hell yes, and open fire," Joker barks. His HUD lights up, and he can see a vid feed of Anderson and Shepard, huddled in cover. He opens the short range comm channel. "Cavalry has arrived!"

EDI's precision shots wipe out the Reaper advance, and Joker pulls the Normandy into a close hover over the downed gunship. "Pick 'em up, Ash!"

There's a long, long moment of tense silence, then Ash responds. "Got her. Let's get out of here!"

"Her? What about Anderson?"

"He's staying. I'll fill you in later," Ash reflects his own words of minutes ago back at him. "Just get us the hell off Earth. And you'd better get the damn AI to log Shepard in command. Anderson's orders."

Joker nods to himself tightly as he blips the sublight thrusters, powering the Normandy to safe altitude for atmospheric escape. EDI dutifully rhymes off the command change log, and flash traffic begins scrolling down the incoming comm display as they clear atmosphere. Joker taps the tab, not really looking as he intercepts. "Yeah, what's going on?"

"Lieutenant Moreau." Somehow, Admiral Hackett doesn't sound surprised. "Who's in command on the Normandy? Anderson?"

"No, sir." Joker straightens, turns to face the display and tries a sloppy, sheepish, very belated salute. "Commander Shepard just assumed the conn."

Hackett almost smiles. "Good. Patch me through, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

Traynor belatedly catches up with proceedings, but Joker shuts her down sharply as he hails Shepard. He doesn't need her help. "Commander?"

"Joker?" Shepard sounds surprised, but damn it's good to hear her voice. If there's one person Joker wants in charge of keeping their asses intact, it's this woman. "That you?"

"Alive and kicking. Got an emergency transmission from Admiral Hackett for you."

"Patch it through."

Joker complies, then looks over at EDI. "Want to bet he's got an errand he needs us to run for him? Pick up his dry-cleaning, walk his dog, take his library books back..."

"I find the likelihood of any of those requests being genuine to be infinitesimally small," the AI notes primly.

"OK, OK, more like arrest the crazy cultist, break the hostage stand-off, recover the embarrassing nuclear booby-trap..." Joker cuts off as the comm crackles to life.

"Joker, set a course for the Mars archives."

Joker smiles contentedly at Shepard's simple order. There's no fuss, no checking, no protocol, just an implicit expectation that he can and will do what she's asked of him. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Joker is happy."Mars? Roger that, Commander," he acknowledges, bringing the ship sharply around to the new vector. "EDI, you heard the boss."

"It seems you were right about Admiral Hackett's library books," EDI remarks.

"Joker?" Traynor again, with perfectly irritating timing.

"Yeah?" he responds ungraciously.

"Why are we going to Mars?"

"Hell if I know."

There's a timid pause, then, "Couldn't you ask?"

Joker snorts derisively. "Yeah, sure, I _could_, but the Commander doesn't sound like she's in the mood for questions, and I kinda like my balls where they are." Not true he knows, but Traynor needs to be kept fearful a while longer. It's educational.

Traynor doesn't respond, but damn if she hasn't succeeded in getting Joker wondering, and after a moment, he comms his boss with a bitten-off curse. "Commander?"

"Yeah, Joker?" Shepard's response is slightly muffled.

"Why Mars?"

"Hackett said something about there potentially being information on stopping the Reapers in the archive." Shepard's explanation is punctuated by the snapping sound of armour straps being fastened. "And something about Liara being the one doing the research."

"Colour me astonished," Joker chuckles. "Whodathunkit? We're going to rescue Liara from a Prothean ruin, because she has the knowledge we need to beat the bad guys. I mean, what are the odds?"

There's a pause, and then, surprisingly, Shepard laughs briefly. "I hadn't even thought of that, Joker," she admits.

"Well, that's because you're all twitterpated at the thought of seeing Pretty Blue again," Joker grins. "Good thing EDI and I are here to look after you."

"It's a very good thing, Joker," Shepard says, all serious again. "I'm glad you're with me. Both of you."

"Thank you, Shepard," EDI replies as Joker blushes. Shepard has always had an uncanny ability to get through his bluster, make him feel like an awkward teenager again.

"Yeah," he mutters thickly, then, seeking any refuge from the moment, he seizes on a sudden realization. "Wow. Y'know we got you, me, Adams, Ash, and we're getting Liara - if we get Garrus and Tali and Wrex and there won't be a Reaper that can stop us."

"Here's hoping, Joker. Here's hoping." Shepard's silent for a moment, then Joker hears the whine of a thermal clip being primed. "OK, we're heading to the shuttle. Prep for drop, and we'll see you on the dark side. You have the conn."

"Aye aye. Good hunting, Commander."


End file.
